


The Ghost

by haddocksortails



Category: How to Train Your Dragon (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Hiccstrid - Freeform, Modern AU, RAF - Freeform, World War II
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-15
Updated: 2019-04-15
Packaged: 2020-01-14 14:02:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18477721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/haddocksortails/pseuds/haddocksortails
Summary: Mrs. Haddock receives devastating news about her RAF pilot husband, Hiccup. She tries to be strong, but it's more than hard, then she sees something...(Modern AU, World War II setting, full of emotions and hardships)





	The Ghost

**Author's Note:**

> This is probably my most favourite drabble. I wrote it a million years ago, dusted it off a little before posting it here. I cried when I wrote it, but don't worry, the ending is not sad at all.

The dull knock on the door startled her. It was a lazy Sunday afternoon in the quite town of Berk, in Berkshire, England and the only excitement she expected for the day was the short-lived but feisty hail storm that chased her back to the house a few minutes ago.

She felt it in her guts that it couldn't be good news.

She took a deep breath, straightened her skirt and went for the door, but stopped before turning the knob. Through the translucent glass she saw the silhouette of two men standing on the porch. She recognized the outlines of their cap; they were from the army. Neither of them was her husband, she was sure about that, his figure was much slender and she seriously doubt that he put on weight while serving in this dark, soulless war.

No… She knew they were here to share the news she had been dreading during every slow minute of the past painfully lonely months.

She waited another second and neatened her hair; she brushed a stray strand of blonde hair behind her ear and touched her tight bun just above the nape of her neck. She swallowed hard then turned the door knob and slowly opened the door.

Their truck was parked a few yards from the house and she wondered why she hadn't heard them coming... probably because of the short-lived hail.

She didn't greet the two men; she didn't say anything, she just looked at them as they slowly took off their caps. They were young, like herself and her husband, but they didn't look young, the war ploughed deep wrinkles on their foreheads and filled their eyes with constant sorrow.

She felt sorry for them. She knew why they had to come and she didn't envy them.

"Mrs. Haddock?" Asked the burlier soldier and his voice broke at the last syllable.

She didn't answer, she just turned around and headed for the living room with slow steps, almost waltzing, absentmindedly humming a bittersweet tune. She had left the door wide open for the soldiers who awkwardly followed her. She looked back behind her shoulder and noticed a small package in the slimmer one's hand. It was wrapped in brown paper, tightly tied with twine and it rustles with every move he made. She stopped at the shiny mahogany dining table and faced them. She gestured to the man to place the package on the table top and he did it with utmost care.

The bigger soldier looked at her, sniffed then wiped away an unborn tear from the corner of his left eye. "He was…"

Astrid nods. "I know… He _was_ a good man." The words came surprisingly easy, even the use of past tense came without any difficulties, but she really wanted to make their job easier and their burdens lighter. She knew they suffered enough without the ungrateful task of notifying women about their husbands'… She wanted to erase the word that's forming in her mind; it was far too early to say it, it was far too early to comprehend it.

"He was…" The man started again. He wanted to give her an explanation, but she didn't need it. Who cared about the whys and ifs anymore...

"Please…" She looked at the insignia on his sleeve then the name on his jacket. "Lieutenant Eretson… don't make it harder. Neither for me, nor for yourselves."

He pressed his lips together and looked at his slimmer, younger companion. They had been told that Mrs. Haddock wasn't like any other woman, but he certainly didn't expect her to be disinterested in her husband's fate.

The younger man cleared his throat; he felt that he had to say something to the widow of his legendry squadron leader. "Mrs. Haddock, if you need…"

She flashed him a faint, dry smile; he looked so damn young and innocent. "I'll be fine… pilot officer Gustav."

There was an unpleasant silence, but she soon broke it. "If you'll excuse me, I…"

They nodded and left as quietly as they came. She closed the door behind them and stumbled back to the living room. She was finally alone, so she let the growing weakness take over her body. She collapsed on a chair at the table, looking at the package with bleary eyes. She knew that all that had been dear to her in this world had gone; it disappeared into the thin air, like the raindrops that vapor from the leaves of the thick shrubs in their garden. In _her_ garden. She has to replace all pronouns in her life.

***

Dusk came and darkness fell and in the blink an eye a new day dawned. The package was still lying on the table, unopened. She was still sitting in front of it with her arms crossed on the table top, but fatigue soon defeated her. Her heavy head fell on her slender arms and she dozed off for a few dreamless moments.

She couldn't sleep, she couldn't cry, she couldn't scream. Finally, her tired body triumphed over her restless mind; it turned her off and she spendt a couple hours in a place without pain, loss and consciousness.

***

When she woke up, she wanted to open it. She lifted the package, it was soft and light, so she suspected that the brown wrapping concealed a piece of clothing. She was right, it was his uniform jacket. Torn and scorched, but his name was clearly readable on it. "HADDOCK." She stroked the letters, one by one, with her index finger. She remembered the night when she embroidered it on the rough fabric with the yellow yarn she hated so much. It was a couple of days before he had to leave. She couldn't find her thimble and she constantly pierced herself with the needle in the dim light, cursing a lot and rolling her eyes even more often, and he, who sat next to her on the floor, just giggled grabbed her hand each and every time to kiss away the stinging pain.

No one will do that for her anymore.

She checked the pockets, but couldn't find anything in them except for an old picture of her. She was smiling on it. She hated that unsuspecting, juvenile grin and she almost tore it into pieces, but when she took a closer look at it, she noticed that the bright paper was covered with fingerprints. _His_ fingerprints. Tiny loops and arches drew around her face on the photopaper where he had touched it. This was the most personal thing that was left of him…

She lifted the picture up and kisses it with trembling lips. Mute tears ran down her cheeks while she carefully put the photo back into the pocket, because she was afraid that she might smudge the prints.

***

She frantically searched for her wedding dress and finally found it at the bottom of a chest in the attic. It was so elegant and simple, much like their wedding was. Probably she could dye it black and wear it for the funeral... She didn't even know why he had to have a funeral; there was nothing left of him apart from a burnt military uniform, the symbol of the war that had destroyed. But her father-in-law insisted on it. He dropped by the other day with a broken face and a crushed heart. He couldn't say much apart from telling her that he had arranged the funeral.

When he was about to leave, he hesitated before stepping out of the door but then shyly hugged her. She got lost between those giant arms, but the warmth of Stoick's hug and the gentle beat of his aching heart gave her some comfort - for the first time in days.

***

He insisted on the wedding. They had been together since they were 17 and they wanted to finish their studies first, but the war made them change their plans. He persisted in marrying her, even though she refused him a couple of times - not because she didn't love him like crazy, but she hated the reason why he wanted to tie the knot so eagerly. His practical thinking was a pure romance killer. War widow's pension. It led to their fiercest fight ever with her blaming him that he deliberately wanted to get himself murdered. She was crying hot tears and hit him with fisted hands until his strong arms laced around her and he held her tight to his chest. Then he calmly explained to her that all he wanted was to take care of her, one way or another, even in his death, since apart from a couple of distant cousins she had no family, she had no support. It left a bile taste in her mouth, she felt a bitter hatred against this whole marriage thing, but a couple days later he properly, unexpectedly and sweetly proposed again, on one knee at the townsquare and she couldn't resist that stupid goofy grin and the puppy eyes anymore. The people surrounding them clapped and cheered while he kissed her with rarely seen passion.

***

They had only one week of marriage to enjoy before he had to leave and there wasn't much enjoyment in it. No, it's not fair to put it that way, but there was another thing he insisted on: he didn't want to sleep with her. He didn't want to make her 'damaged goods', because his damn cool logic suggested that it would be easier for her to re-marry if she was untouched. She hated him for it; she hated him for always trying to protect her. She didn't need any sheltering and shielding, she could take care of herself. But he was stubborn as a dead mule and she couldn't make him change his mind, no matter how hard she tried to seduce him. He was blind to her beauty, but only because he forced himself to be blind and once she had understood how much he suffered because of it, she never hated him again. Except for now, when all she could think was how he denied the memory of their first night together from her, a thing they've been both dreaming about for years.

***

She had to go and get some food; all her cupboards and shelves were empty. She hadn't eaten in the past couple of days and she felt as if she were a ghost, she felt no connection to the world of the living anymore. She walked three miles in the summer's worst heatwave to the market by the train station. She bought a few apples and carrots and absentmindedly placed them into her woven basket, but even the thought of eating made her nauseated. The sun was cruel today and the market was crowded. The waves of people twirling around sickened her further. She pulled out a handkerchief from her pocket and wiped her sweaty forehead.

She looked up and her heart skipped a beat; she saw a chestnut-coloured spot not far from herself.

 _Splendid_ , on the top of all her troubles, she is starting to hallucinate now. She had expected it, she knew that people tend to imagine things after a great loss, she just wasn't ready for it. She looked away and rubbed her eyes with her free hand. She looked back up again and voila, the mirage was gone. She shook her head and even smiled the little, it was so embarrassing. She decided on leaving the stomach-churning crowd and seek refuge in her lonely, quiet house, but when she turned around she became petrified.

She has never believed in the existence of the unnatural, but she has also never expected to come across a ghost. _Her husband's ghost._ Her legs gave out. She dropped her basket and the apples and the carrots rolled away in every direction. She fell on the dusty ground and she faintly heard someone say "Astrid", but she lost consciousness a moment later.

***

She woke up in her bed alone. She must have fallen asleep. She remembered having a weird dream about going to the market and seeing... Suddenly she heard a thump coming from the kitchen. Then some other noises. She became frightened; lots of people knew that she was living alone and anything could happen while a country was at war. Normally, she didn't care about intruders; a lonely life wasn't for the faint of heart, but she knew she could protect herself. Except now, when she was weak and vulnerable. She knew there was a cricket bat under the bed, but it never occurred to her that she would have to use it one day. She quietly slipped out from under the blanket, slowly knelt down and reached for the bat. She grabbed it and pulled it out and already felt a little braver.

She sneaked out, hiding in the familiar shadows of her house, heading towards the kitchen. She heard whistling. Her legs were trembling, her arms felt weak, the bat was heavy.

When she got to the door, she saw the shadow of a person on the floor; he was standing behind the half-closed door. She strengthened her grip around the bat and in a valiant effort she lifted it up as high as she could. Suddenly, the door opened and she was facing the ghost again. "Astrid!" He cried out and it was definitely _his_ voice, _his_ face and _his_ body, except it couldn't have been him. She dropped the bat and collapsed next to it on the floor, in a sitting position, pulling her bent legs to her chest, starting to cry. Her stupid senses were playing a cruel game with her...

But then the ghost knelt down next to her and hugged her and she wanted to push him away – even though he felt terribly solid for a ghost - but he was stronger and he hold her tight and his dry lips searched for her tear-laced ones and he melted his mouth into hers.

"You-you are dead..." She sobbed when the eager lips left her, not daring to look at the one who was now gently stroking her hair.

"I hate to disappoint you, but I'm not. I'm dead tired, that's true, but I'm not _dead_ dead."

She looked at him. He was flashing his stupid gap-toothed smile. She wanted to slap him. To plough his face with her nails. To hurt him. But she just started to cry again and through her veil of tears, he glued his lips to hers again.

"I-I-I don't understand..." She stuttered when they parted. "How?"

He sighed and drew her closer, burying his nose in her dishevelled, golden curls. "Huh. Nothing exciting, really. There was another soldier named Hadder… and he mistakenly took my jacket and… crashed his plane. He was badly burnt, he was unrecognizable and in the mean time I was stuck at a military hospital at another army camp. I went there to check on an injured pilot of mine, but they started to bomb and I couldn't leave the area for days, it was unsafe."

She didn't say a word but touched his face with the tips of her fingers. He turned his head and kisses her palm.

She sniffed. "When are you leaving?"

"Three days."

She nodded.

***

She cooked him a soup and it tasted less terrible than normally or they were just far too hungry. They lay down in the garden, among the tall, soft grasses and she was telling him about their friends and family, sharing all the little things with him that he had to miss. The night came and even though it was warm and balmy, the mosquitoes were terrible. They went back inside and changed into night clothes. Since it was still very hot, he only wore a pair of pyjama bottoms and she was shocked when she first saw how thin he had become, but she didn't mention it. They lay in their bed and they kissed passionately. She tore her mouth from his with a determined look on her face. He wanted to say something, but she stopped him by covering his mouth with her warm palm.

"Don't you dare to refuse me again, Haddock." She removed her hand from his lips and he shook his head "I wouldn't do that."

He kissed her again and his lips burnt hers. She climbed on top of him and he put his hands under her nightgown, then damp palms slowly and maddeningly slipped up on her strong thighs.

"Listen," she panted before she uttered the hard words, "I… I don't mind if you were with other women, I mean, with the war and all…"

His hands stopped on her thigh. Then he started to laugh. He grabbed her by the waist, turned her over and pressed her into the freshly washed pillows. He climbed between her legs, still laughing and ducked his head down to leave a cheeky little kiss on her collarbone. "Wifey, you're such a noodle, really," he said, definitely amused, while he placed giggly kisses along the hem of her nightgown, but then he looked up, into the deep sea of her blue eyes. "You were, are and always will be the one and only."

He leaned down to kiss her gently while his hands slipped back under her gown again. The white piece of clothes soon landed on the floor and was quickly followed by his pyjamas. He was careful and gentle and maybe a bit clumsy during their first, but when they did it for the second time, it was smooth and sweet and their deep moans and uneven pants filled the warm air of their house.

***

The three days went by fast and the all of a sudden it was their last night together in _their_ bed. They made love and spooned afterwards; in the humid air of the bedroom, his bare chest stuck to her naked back. He wanted to prolong his goodbye as long as he could and instead of talking, he was just gently sniffing the nape of her neck, trying to memorize her scent.

"I'm going with you." She said firmly.

He smiled, but it almost broke his heart. "Astrid, you know you can't."

She scooted away and turned around to face him. "Yes, I can."

"Babe, I know you're sweet and stubborn, but..."

She narrowed her eyes. "No, you don't get it, I really _can_."

A puzzled look grew on his face and she took a deep breath before explaining it. "I didn't just want to sit around while you were away so I talked to your dad and I... I went to his Academy and I'm a trained pilot, I'm a cadet. I can fly Spitfires, Hurricanes, Lancasters. Actually, I was the top of my class."

His eyes grew wild and he almost forgot to breath.

"My good records and your father's influence got me into your squadron," she finished with a hint of triumph. 

He sighed. "I assume I have no say in this matter, right?"

She shook her head with the cheeky smile he loved so much. "Nope."

"Huh. So we're going to shoot bandits together?" He asked finally after a hard moment of silence.

"You don't hate me for this, do you?"

He closed his eye and pulled her very close. "How could I hate the world's bravest wife?"

***

The next morning they woke up early. His heart rate elevated when he saw her in the uniform for the first time. She was beautiful with her serious face and her tight bun under her RAF cap, but a sad feeling budded in his heart. He had already seen the darkest sides of this unholy war and it had never occurred to him that one day he had to share this experience with his wife. The thought of it crushed his heart. He knew she was fearless, he knew she was a fighter, but he also understood during his service that in a war, there were no unwounded soldiers...

 

**Author's Note:**

> I borrowed the last thought from the brilliant José Narosky.


End file.
